User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-26024035-20160423181424/@comment-3135907-20160428194736

Over the high forward tower rail of the dromon galley, a lean fox stood leering down at the destruction he had wreaked.

Hoisting himself over the rail and landing neatly on the Wasp's bloodstained timbers, the fox strode about the wreckage, poking at bodies with cutlass as a large complement of his crew joined him on the burning hulk.

They spoke their own tongue, a series of fluid, pleasant sounds to the common ear. Their intentions, however, were clearly anything but.

The fox waved with his cutlass and said something, and a team of vermin bearing numerous sets of manacles and whips strode about, seizing wounded crew at swordpoint and shackling them together.

In his position at the far rail, Slank lay hithertofore unnoticed- three of the slavers approached Raggs, however, greed in their eyes.